


Do you remember when everything went wrong in the first place?

by Espisayer



Series: Everything Goes Wrong [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Human Names, Angst, Humor, M/M, Nationverse, Prequel, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 19:45:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18430838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Espisayer/pseuds/Espisayer
Summary: It's the prequel to a passably written romantic comedy that people wanted but weren't sure they liked after they got it. It doesn't have the same tone as the first, showcasing the mind of an emotional mess, and everything falls apart in the end. But that's pretty much how Russia's life goes.Warnings: I use alternate human names for certain characters.





	Do you remember when everything went wrong in the first place?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prequel to a silly oneshot I posted, “You know that one day when everything goes wrong?” I had a second wind to write this after some reviews requested an extra part to this train wreck! All of your reviews were lovely and appreciated!
> 
> This prequel is less humorous and much more emotional and introspective, and I also wrote it in three days, so I apologize if the tone here makes the stories seem disjointed. I had fun with it when I could.
> 
> Also: There is a section here that might piss you off if you ship Russia and America, so if you feel like you might get angry please don't read. That's never my intention.

“Do you… feel any different?”

“No. I told you. I’ll tell you a hundred more times. I’m fine.”

He’d known the reunification was coming. He knew it would happen back when the governments of the Allies and the Soviets originally split them up. Call it a gut feeling, or call it knowing them too well. The brothers were made of steel and had gone through too much together to let it go on like this.

Unless one of them died.

The lifespans of nations was a mystery throughout history, why some would die, why some would live on, and why some such as the north and south of Italy existed in harmony. Russia had assumed that the German Democratic Republic had kept the former nation of Prussia alive, but now that the official reunification was in order, what would happen to them?

Russia was afraid that the tragedy was destined to fall on Prussia, considering the actual country of Prussia no longer existed. He was fully aware and suffered an endless guilt for the fact that being  a part of the soviet bloc wasn’t good for the people of East Germany… and many nations, for that matter. But at least this was keeping him alive.

It was certainly an unreachable level of selfishness that he could live with this suffering if Prussia could still live in relative happiness. But it was too late to stop anything. Maybe it could never be stopped. He was sure that Prussia would sacrifice himself for his brother if it ever came to choice, anyway.

He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to function if it ever happened. Russia tried his damndest to never think about it, let alone speak about it, except for those times that Prussia just looked… drained.

“It’s coming up in October… I’m just…”

He couldn’t get the words out.

“Worried about me. I know. You don’t have to do that.” Gilbert sat up out of where he was lying in their bed and stretched his stiff arms and back. He’d been sleeping a lot more lately and Aleksandr couldn’t help noticing mood changes… especially the distancing. But he tried not to let it get to his head.

Missing the intimacy, and not wanting to take that step out of the bedroom where they couldn’t be themselves, Aleksandr sat up after him and wrapped his arms around his waist, resting his head in the crook of Gilbert’s neck. “I can’t help it.”

Gilbert reached over his shoulder and ran his fingers through Aleksandr’s tousled bed-head. “You should worry about yourself for once.”

“Mh, yes, the Soviet Union is collapsing. I’m aware…” Aleksandr mumbled. He had been for quite some time. But it wasn’t the same. He had yet to go through any physical complications―and after all, even if the union collapsed, he was still Russia. “But I’m actually fine.”

Gilbert raised an accusatory eyebrow at him. “Actually?”

“Yes, actually,” he muttered dryly. “You’re always so fatigued. You don’t want to have sex. You don’t smile very―”

He laughed suddenly, “Excuse me? When the hell did I say I didn’t want to have sex?”

“That’s not the important part,” Russia sighed.

“Depends on your perspective.”

Gilbert’s smirk and following kiss didn’t feel entirely genuine, but it wouldn’t stop either of them from falling back into bed, trying to prove each other wrong, no matter how late they would be.

Or maybe they were trying to prove themselves wrong. Gilbert would always claim he was doing well; anything else was a sign of weakness. Aleksandr was trying to ignore the voices in his head trying to tell him he couldn’t do anything right, that he should be trying harder to help Gilbert, that he wasn’t good for him, that Gilbert would inevitably leave him…

Except they weren’t really together, so there was nothing to leave. It was only… a close friendship with sex. Too much sex, probably. They always seemed to fall back here when a problem arose that neither of them wanted to talk about. Aleksandr knew it was foolish to want anything more than that, though―there was only so much you could ask for in a relationship between nations.

He’d known that several hundred years ago when they’d started this… relationship. Somehow he’d been more logical about it back then, and now he felt like he couldn’t control his emotions. Every other day for the last few months leading up to October, he talked himself out of confessing everything to someone he loved so much that he wanted to rip his own heart out and stow it away somewhere it wouldn’t be so painful.

-

He didn’t hate Germany. He didn’t even hate America. What he hated was being at these meetings on the cusp of the reunification, despite seeing Gilbert so happy to see his brother, knowing he would be happier once this was all over.

He knew Gilbert wasn’t thinking about it, but he felt like he was dying waiting to see what would happen. Sometimes just seeing the brothers together gave him anxiety, as if Gilbert could disappear just being in his presence.

“You know,” he heard an obnoxious voice begin, breaking his thoughts into tiny, irritated pieces, “with all this Cold War shit still going on, I’m tryin’ real hard not to stereotype you, but now you’re smoking again.”

He didn’t spare America a passing glance and simply retorted wryly, “Come here, I’ll burn it out on your face.”

America responded by dropping down on the cement step next to him. “Put your heart into it, at least.”

Russia wouldn’t encourage him by making eye contact, but he also didn’t have the energy or the care anymore to dissuade him. “You know I don’t have one of those.”

He could at least appreciate how America was one of the few people who weren’t put off by his dark humor, though his nerves would always vary between pinched and burned off by the time he’d spent a few minutes with the manchild; case in point as he shoved Russia’s shoulder and guffawed. “Sure ya do! It’s just frozen over to all hell because your country’s cold as fuck.”

He had a retort ready to go on the tip of his tongue, as well as an urge to shove America down the stairs (all three of them), but he just wasn’t in the mood for it. He took another drag from the cigarette and asked, “Isn’t there _anyone_ else here you can bother?”

“Oh, you would think, but no way. I don’t fuck with politicians. And Germany’s about ready to gut me like a fish, so I’ll be relieved when their country’s back in one piece.”

The incredible irony of that statement made Russia fall silent for a moment. But America wouldn’t let it last more than 30 seconds. “Worried about Prussia?”

His jaw tightened. “You realize you’re not supposed to be here?” Enough nerves had been struck that he finally turned to glare at America. “We’re also still warring, technically, so no one could fault me if I pulled a gun on you.”

“Except you’re not supposed to be here, either,” America shot back, not budging from his seat. Granted, neither had Russia. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’ by the way.”

“Mind your own business.”

“I wasn’t asking to be a dick. I just… well…” He trailed off. When Russia’s glaring turned into a strange, confused expression, America tried to laugh it off. It just sounded awkward. “I thought maybe it might help if I… distracted you for a second, I don’t know.”

So he was attempting, very badly, to be… nice. It wasn’t as if their reputation for threatening each other―and occasionally pulling out a gun for fun―was in the same bad blood as their countries, but he wouldn’t have expected that. Though he supposed America thought the world was his friend, didn’t he?

He wasn’t able to finish his thought, as Prussia stepped out a few moments later, behind them and hovering in the doorway with his arms crossed. “Meeting’s over,” he said a bit gruffly.

Russia paused at him while America hopped to his feet. “That was fast,” he remarked. “Something go―”

“What are you doing here?” Prussia’s voice was sharp and unfriendly. “Go home, kid.”

Prussia hadn’t exactly been the biggest fan of America, not after his country had been abolished, but this mood for him was… odd. America dared to share a glance with Russia, while he almost sheepishly put out his cigarette beside him. The young, brazen nation threw in a cheeky salute, quipping, “Got it,” before slinking back into the building.

When he was gone, Russia asked him, “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” Prussia grumbled. He kept his arms crossed and leaned his shoulder on the wall, looking irritable. “So, what’s this about? You’re buddies with America all the sudden?”

Russia stared at him with a blank expression. “What?” he asked incredulously.

He could see Prussia’s jaw shift as he bit the inside of his gums. “You know what… Never mind. Let’s go. I wanna get out of this shithole conference building. Don’t even fucking have coffee!”

He felt like his head had been spun around. Russia stood off the stairs after him and grabbed ahold of his arm. “Wait!”

“What? What?” Prussia shrugged him off and put on his bullshit “I’m fine” face. “I’m fine!”

“Gilbert, do you…” He tilted his head a bit. “Are you… jealous?”

Prussia stared back at him for exactly 0.2 seconds. “Jeal―” He couldn’t even get the word out, instantly flying into a offended rage, “Fucking―why the fuck would I be jealous of _that guy?!_ Did you really just say that to me?!”

He was practically being shaken by his shoulders. “I, uhm…”

“Fuck! That fucking Arschloch can go stick a fucking missile up his dickhole, it’ll probably go straight through to his brain―except he doesn’t have one of those, so at least there won’t be much to clean up after!”

Russia stared at him. Even though he was probably about to get yelled at, he just… couldn’t stop himself from cracking a smile.

Now Gilbert was pausing at him, almost mystified to see him smile honestly. “What the fuck are you smiling about?”

He couldn’t help it. “I-I―Gilbert.” He held Prussia’s face in his hands. “I can’t believe you…” Trying not to devolve into snickering, he told him with a strain in his voice, “I wouldn’t sleep with America if my life depended on it.”

“You…” His expression was priceless. He would never admit he was embarrassed, but Prussia only blushed maybe once in a year. If that. Russia couldn’t help it. A few chuckles turned into full-on laughter. Something he hadn’t done in such a long time, his voice was almost raw.

He _almost_ felt bad, but Prussia didn’t push him away when he pulled him into a hug. Prussia sighed through his nose. “The only time you ever laugh, and it’s at my expense?”

“D-Das tut mir leid.”*

“Halte das Maul.”**

Russia only smiled more at his surly face and kissed him on the forehead. Prussia grumbled like a disgruntled child, but Russia felt his shoulders relax.

He wanted to say “I love you” so much in that moment that he had chest pain.

-

The plane ride back was relatively quiet, but it was a relaxing quiet. Even though Prussia’s sleeping habits had been worrying him lately. He tried not to think about that. He kept thinking about what happened before they left; undecided if it was torturous to get his hopes up about their relationship or if this was just one more thing that could go wrong in his life.

It was the last leg of the flight when Prussia asked him something… surprising.

“Aleksandr…”

“Hmm?”

“Since we’ve been… seeing each other, have you ever… seen anyone else?” he asked quietly―both out of drowsiness and because their flights were never perfectly private.

So he had to wonder if it was a question out of half-consciousness or not. Still… Russia couldn’t believe he’d ask that. “Why would you ever think that?”

“I’m… asking,” Prussia shrugged. “You’ve asked me before.”

“You keep a lot of friends. I have no one but my sisters.”

“If you wanted to, though, you could…” He stopped himself, though, from saying any more and shifted in his seat. “Never mind. I just… wanted to ask…”

Russia watched him close his eyes again, wondering what he was thinking about. It was selfish and possibly shallow, yes, he was aware, but could he have just one selfish moment to enjoy Prussia being… possessive? It made his heart flutter a little bit.

Glancing into the aisle first, Russia discreetly leaned over and mumbled into his ear. “You look tired. You should go to bed early tonight.” Gilbert turned to look at back at him, and they were eye-to-eye for the shortest moment, and he couldn’t help wondering if he could get away with kissing him here.

But in the blink of an eye, his subtlety was lost to Gilbert’s crassness. “Or we could fuck on the airplane.”

He sighed deeply. Why did he bother? “I honestly don’t know what I was thinking.”

Suddenly Prussia seemed a lot more awake. “Why not? When you can live to be 700 years old, you need to try something new once in a while.”

“I think what scares me the most is that you might be serious.”

“I am serious.”

“You’re your own threat to the GDR’s national security.”

He must’ve thought that was funny. Russia found himself having to snatch a wandering hand off of his leg. “Gilbert.”

He smirked, though he was on the verge of laughing. “Don’t be a tease.”

“ _Gilbert_.”

“What?”

“Good things come to those who wait.”

-

Aleksandr would sometimes stay awake at night, wishing he had the freedom to lie around in bed all day. He could appreciate the simple life of a human who could share their short existence with someone they cared about, without the constant loom of politics and cycle of death for centuries and centuries. At his core, he was a simple person. He craved something like that.

Last night, or what had been left of the night by the time they were both ready to sleep, he’d also plagued himself with wondering about what went on in Gilbert’s head. Which was really a daring task in itself, but it wasn’t often… Actually, it had never happened before, or at least he’d never picked up on a sign that… maybe Gilbert felt something more about this relationship than he’d believed.

But he was terrified of being wrong. Which was how they were here, so close to the year 2000, and he’d kept his emotions buried so deeply. With the impending doom of Prussia’s existence, though, he wasn’t sure he could keep it in for much longer.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Gilbert said with a frayed morning voice.

Aleksandr frowned while he played with the ends of his disheveled hair. “What look? Your eyes aren’t even open…”

“Doesn’t matter. I can just tell,” he grumbled. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, Schatz, I’m fine…”

There went his heart strings being pulled again. If he dared to take a second look at everything, he could consider himself a fool for looking past Gilbert calling him by those casual pet names.

“No, it’s… It’s not about that…” That was partially a lie. The idea of not saying anything and regretting it was also a dreadful feeling.

“Then… what is it?” Gilbert opened his dreary scarlet eyes, looking concerned with Aleksandr’s pensive expression. “What’s wrong?”

Everything? “It’s…”

“Are you okay?”

“I… No. Or… Yes… I just…”

“Aleksandr, just _tell me_. Please.”

He felt like he was having a panic attack, like his heart could potentially snap off at any moment, and he had to say it. “Ya lyublyu tebya.”***

The moments after he said it, while Gilbert stared at him with no expression except for his vaguely wide eyes, were nearly hallucinatory, a hyper slow-motion. His breathing and pulse slowed down, but he could hear it echo in his ears. He wanted to take it back as soon as he said it.

Gilbert’s brain wasn’t functioning. At all. It wouldn’t process the auditory information he’d just received―the only thing it was processing was the fact that Aleksandr looked like he was about to have a breakdown. So he acted instinctually, grabbing ahold of the hand that was absently gripping his hair and drawing him into a tight hug.

He didn’t know what to say. When he tried to think, he felt dizzy.

“Don’t cry,” he heard himself say. “I’m here.”

He shouldn’t have said anything.

It turned out to be the worst thing he’d said in his entire life.

-

He would survive the reunification. In some miracle. He wouldn’t survive his own emotions, though. Somehow they led him on a path of self-destruction, worse than any war he’d been in, slowly driving him away from Aleksandr in a panic he couldn’t seem to control and he didn’t understand.

Gilbert hated what he’d turned into. It was fear of vulnerability. But he couldn’t stop it, and he couldn’t acknowledge it.

And so 30 years nearly passed. Like the blink of an eye.

And then Russia answered the phone one day. “Germany? How are you?”

“Not well.” He heard a nasty cough on the other line. “Are you free to talk? You might want to sit down…”

**Author's Note:**

> SOMEHOW it ended up longer than the first part, and I was worried about it being short! I wrote it pretty quickly, though, so hopefully it's not all over the place. Thanks for reading!
> 
> PS: Any certain way I write characters together, whether I like the ship or not (in this case, Russia and America and I do not) is nothing against those who do ship them. I don’t do the shipping war thing, this is just how I like to write them.
> 
> Translations  
> *Das tut mir leid: I’m sorry.  
> **Halte das Maul: Shut up.  
> ***Ya lyublyu tebya/Я люблю тебя: I love you.
> 
> (I used Google Translate, but also looked up different ways to say these phrases, so hopefully they’re okay!)


End file.
